Can't Keep Our Hearts In Jail
by Total-Jewel
Summary: [The Producers] Now that Max and Leo find themselves locked up behind bars, the two now face far larger challenges than Broadway could ever produce. Will they remain at bottom line of this prison, or will they shine?
1. Friends

**Read Me;** The events in the following fic have been led by an alternate ending to the Mel Brooks film The Producers. I found it highly doubtful that Max, Leo and Franz would be released from Sing Sing because they were able to bring joy and laughter into the hearts of every murderer, rapist and sex maniac in Sing Sing.

**N.A;** The Producers is © Mel Brooks as well as Max and Leo and other characters known in the film. Rating is T so expect the unexpected. The story is currently seen through Max Bialystock's eyes.

Chapter: I -- Friends

_I'm so dismayed. Is this how I'm repaid? To be...Betrayed!_

Sitting in the back of the barred van, I fiddled with my handcuffs apathetically. None of this twisted reality felt even the slightest bit real. It was more like some nightmare I could not awake from. It's not a pleasant feeling, I give you that. I feel dead inside, unsure of what to emotion to show at this point.

I remember when the judge made the verdict, my literally heart had skipped a beat. It's a shame it just didn't stop beating completely, that would have been a miracle. I'm in for five years in the state penitentiary at Sing Sing...five years! Max Bialystock, is actually going to prison! And it's all because of him, the man sitting across from me, Leopold Bloom.

I don't know why Leo came back, even when he had everything he ever could have dreamed of back in fabulous Rio. Maybe it was guilt. If so, guilt sure took long enough to catch up with him.

When he first literally danced into that courtroom I felt the urge to ring his neck. It wouldn't have looked all that great for my image but by this point it was obvious that the jury found me guilty anyway. I actually regret not choking the man now, screaming at him in a haze of furry 'How could he do this to me, how could he stab me in the back like that? Leaving me to rot away in prison while you spent all our money!' ...no. Not our money, **MY** money! I'm the one who had to work for it, not him.

A shudder sent itself up my spine at the thought of those seniors I had 'accompanied' for those many long, horrid weeks. At this rate, the denture marks may never go away. I suddenly felt so unclean. Then again, I've never really been known as a 'clean' man. More as a sewer rat decaying in a cesspool of horrid musicals these days. Funny, I used to be the king of old Broadway. My shows were always filled with class, the best champagnes would fill my glass, my lap was filled with gorgeous ass...but all that's gone now...because of him.

_'You can make more money with a flop then with a hit.'_

My hands curled into fists as I casted my gaze down to them. He ruined me, ruined! If he'd only have given me those blasted books instead of screaming absurd names at me.

_"FAT!"_

We could have both made a break for it, been home free! ...but no. When the cops came and arrested me he did nothing. He simply remain hidden in the office like a pathetic little insect. Cowardly little caterpillar.

_'Never met I man I ever trusted, always dealt with shysters in the past. Now I'm well adjusted 'cause I've got a friend at last.'_

He wasn't my friend. The little performance in the court room was merely an act...wasn't it?

"Max...?"

Breaking from my train of thought, I realized I was still in the back of prison truck, still going to jail, and still sitting across from Leo.

"Yeah." My response was flat and toneless. It was unbelievable how dry my mouth had gotten over such a short period of time.

"I'm sorry."

I did not look at him. "I'm sure you are."

It was obvious to me, no doubt Leo, that I was unconvinced by the projection of my voice. I couldn't be sure wither he was looking at me, watching my face and reading it or if he had his gaze cast elsewhere like myself. None the less, I took no chances and remain determined to keep my facial expression hard.

"I know it was a mistake to do what I did. After I sent you that postcard--"

Ah yes, his lovely little postcard. Back when I was waiting for my trial in the slammer I received it during the second mail call. Thinking back, I'm rather astonished I didn't rip the card apart after the first read.

_"Mail call!" The guard walked around the cells with a brown bag which I assumed was filled with letters for the prisoners. He stopped beside my cell wearing a smirk "Hey fatso!" _

"I'm not that fat!" I snapped back, frustrated from all the name calling I had been through.

"Say's you." the guard replied with ease. "Yea got a postcard."

"A postcard?" blinking several times I pulled myself up from the my mattress and sat up. My eyes studied the guard carefully "From where?"

"Brazil."

"Brazil? Who do I know in Brazil?" A brief silence was shared between us. The guard remain expressionless. "And why am I asking you?"

Taking my mail from him, I lazily collapsed back down on my bed, the springs giving a wail of pain from under my weight.

'Dear Max, Rio is everything you said it was and more. Ulla and I think of you every chance we get. In the morning, when we have breakfast on our terrace, many different herrings. And in the evening, when we samba together in the moonlight. Sorry, must run. Ulla's waiting, it's almost eleven.

- Wish you were here, Leo'

So many emotions took me over at that exact moment, I felt as if I'd gone mad. The bastard even pointed out on the postcard where he was currently staying.

My teeth grinded together tightly about to shatter any minute from the amount of pressure being forced down on them. It felt as if someone had literally ripped my heart out and spit on it. Every part of my body ached, my lungs burnt feeling as if I'd been screaming for over an hour. Still holding the parchment to bring such pain to me, I could not bring myself to tare the card apart.

I hate you.

"Yeah." cutting him off I lightly rested my chin on my fist in an attempt to get into a more comfortable position. The handcuffs prevented much leverage making it rather difficult.

"Max...I really am sorry. What happened in court, that song...I meant it."

Looking up at him I found a pair hazel eyes staring into my own. He looked deadpan, though through his eyes I could see his fear and sorrow. It was as if he was mourning me, like I was dead or something. A shiver went up my spine. Was I truly dead? A ghost of some sort?

No, of course not! Get a hold of yourself Max!

There was a heavy silence hovering over us from this point. We simply sat staring at one each other, waiting for one to say something. The silence between us felt so...wrong.

The man across from me, this man who had caused me so much pain, he hadn't given up on me when everyone else had. Though it certainly taken him some time to realize it as well as myself. Feeling ashamed, I buried my head in my hands.

"Leo," the name came out sounding like venom. Shit. "I don't think I can forgive you all that quickly."

He looked as if I'd smacked him squarely in the face with the back of my hand. I tried to put it as nicely as I could, honestly. Trusting him again would certainly take time, time we had a lot of now. Even now it felt as if he'd be pulling another disappearing act the moment the back doors would open.

Silence again.

My gaze went back to the floor as I searched for something, anything to say to lighten the load on Leo's shoulders.

"Hey Leo," the man looked up at me with owl eyes, afraid I'd be stabbing him again with my words. I offered my hand bearing a grin. "friends?" Taking my hand and giving it a surprisingly firm shake, he mirrored the grin.

"Friends."


	2. Inmates

**N.A; **Philip and Cidney are © to me. I am not responsible for any articles of hot pink clothing belonging to Max...

Chapter: II - Inmates

"Out, out ya two love birds!"

The guards hastily burst through the back doors and dragged the two of us out of the vehicle in the most aggressive manner. There was no struggled from us causing me to pounder what was causing their mannerisms. I mean, let's think logical here. Being the rather petite folk we were, it was obvious Leo and I stood no chance against these skyscrapers if we were to even attempt throwing a punch at them.

I sent Leo a wink in an attempt to calm him down only to watch it frighten him more. Just by looking at him I could tell what the man was thinking, 'Oh no, not some crazy escape plan!'. Heh, don't worry Leo, there's no plan. Nothing to worry about aside from the fact that your going to **prison**!

Once outside the truck we began to approached the prison in a little fashionable line; one guard in front and behind us each assumingly armed with rifles. I wounder how many times they've shot those things off...

Leo kept silent and remain obedient to the guards. I didn't expect him to be much of a hassle to begin with so it really didn't come as much of a surprise to see this behaviour. I on the other hand found the manor I was being treated most offensive, Max Bialystock is pushed around by no one! ...except maybe 'Hold Me-Touch Me' when she wants to play.

Inspecting the area briefly for any signs of an escape route I noticed the prisons gate still wide open. We've got a Bingo in this corner! They had made this all to easy on my part. Breaking from my place in line, I threw myself to the right and ran as fast as my feet could carry me toward the gate

"We gotta runner!"

Runner indeed! Do you realize how hard it is to run in a suit two sizes to small for you? I was literally wearing flood pants. When I had first slipped into this suit I remember I wasn't able to do up the zipper, maybe half way but that was it. In the end I ended up only buttoning up the slacks. The button looked as if it were about to pop off any minute... None the less, getting back to reality, I ran like there was no tomorrow because in my case, the next five years would basically be hell in a nutshell. The sound of gunfire caused me to collapse as a sharp pain shot through my body.

Landing upon the black asphalt I surely scrapped knee's. Enough for them to bleed? Who knows. I sucked in through my teeth ignoring the pain the best I could. I wasn't down just quite yet. Still capable of movement, I began crawling in psychotic laughter. "Not even bullets can stop the great Max Bialystock! Ah ha ha ha ha!"

Another shot was fired. Wincing at the pain momentarily, I continued on as the raving lunatic I had become. The gate was getting closer and closer by the second, the grin upon my face ear to ear. No prison could keep me in, not this convict! I was gunna make it! I was home free! I was invincible! INVINC---!

Suddenly I wasn't feeling so good. It was as if illness had stricken me without the eight week wait (a 'cold' is in your body for eight weeks before your sinuses appear). My body was heavy, arms and legs as if weights were attached to them while I carried a passenger aboard my back. The gate slowly drifted away, the door closing and the sound of sirens coming to a calm.

"N-no!" My voice was weak. It was difficult to speak let alone keep my eyes open. "---invincible---!" I shouted in a slurred daze of desperation.

Everything was slowly fading black. I could no longer feel my body, everything had gone numb including my mind.

The last thing I could recall was the two guards who had been escorting me from the truck hovering over me sourly.

_"Bloom, I'm drowning. Other men sail through life, Bialystock has struck a reef. Bloom, I'm going under. I'm condemned by a society that demands success when all I can offer is failure. Bloom, I'm reaching out to you! _

Don't send me to prison..."

When I finally opened my eyes again I found myself lying in the middle of a dark room. My cheek rested against the cold pavement allowing me to take in probably the most gruesome assortment of odors ever to reach my nose. The caretaker must have taken the year off to allow the place to produce such a revolting aroma.

Giving a groan, I attempted to pull myself up only to face more pain. It felt as if someone had dropped a load of bricks on me causing my joints to ache worse then the time 'Lick Me-Grab Me' introduced me to the game 'Cops and Robers'. And my head, oy! Imagine the world worst headache and times it by two, now let one or two of those bricks smash against your scull...

I rubbed my throbbing head in an attempt to ease the pain while observing my surroundings. Three poorly painted blue walls surrounded me along with a gray barred wall. A rusted bunk bed sat in the corner to the right of me and a toilet and sink to the left. The interior designer of this place should seriously be shot. My office looked better then this place, and my office was a dump!

Clutching the barred wall in front of me I was able to pull myself to my feet and stand up with a little support.

"You've been out for at least an hour."

Spinning 'round on my heel I slammed my back against the bars, no doubt surprised by the new voice. I hadn't realized there was someone else in the cell with me. "Who's there?"

Their laugh consisted mostly of air. "Your cellmate, Beefy."

"It's Max." I corrected firmly while adjusting my posture. "Max Bialystock." Moving into the middle of the cell, my joints still soar but capable to keeping me standing without support, I offered my hand to the darkness, oblivious to the whereabouts of the individual whom I was speaking to.

"Hmmm...Max, is it?" the gruff voice sounded as if it were in deep thought. It came to me as surprise when a man emerged from the shadows taking tight grasp of my hand and shaking it. I hadn't expected him to actually follow through.

"My name is Anothy but they call me Philip."

"Oh, whys that?"

"Because I kill all my victims with a Philip Screwdriver."

Maintaining my smile proved exceedingly difficult at this point. I was shaking the hand of a man who committed murder with a bloody screwdriver! Do you realize how frightening that is? "Well, that's...original." I replied, struggling briefly to on how to comment such mannerisms. It was a relief to me to still hold control of my voice and prevent it from shaking.

Philip was an extremely intimidating man. It could have been his great height advantage over me, the muscles bulging from his skin or possibly his deep, rugged voice that scared me most. Picking a precise feature proved itself difficult. When it came to innocence though, I could pin point at least two; his bright blue eyes which could light up an entire room and his voice.

I know I said I found his voice intimidating, but it also was quite calm and delicat through it's ruggedness. I could see him being quite a lady charmer by how etiquette he really was. Hell, even I was begining to feel a little intrigued.

My smile began to grow weak while scanning over the dark skinned man. I grew weary of how much longer I could suppress my agony. The man was clearly cruching my hand. "That's quite a handshake you go there, Philip."

"Thank you."

"I think you shattered my hand."

Releasing his grip, he gave another hardy laugh while giving me a slap on the shoulder which sent me stumbling back a few steps by the force of impact. I too gave a small laugh while before inspecting my hand for any injury.

"I like you Max." he commented with an assuring smile as he sat himself back on his bunk. "You have a real pleasant personality that makes me feel most at ease."

"Well that's a relief." I said half heartedly. I certainly wouldn't want to appear on his bad side. Leaning back against a wall, I noticed Philip still wearing a smile. Was he just happy or was there something else to it? "What?"

He pointed a spindle like finger at me, "You've got some darts stincking out of your ass."

"What!" quickly glancing down at my butt I found two darts embedded in it. "How long have those been in there?"

Philip shrugged "You had them in you since the guards brought you here. I take it you ran for it, hu?"

"Well the gate was wide open, they were basically begging me to make a break for it!" So that's what happened, they shot me with tranquilizers as if I was some animal! That actually doesn't surprise me. I sucked in through my teeth while yanking out the darts.

"Thought so. Well, are you going to change?"

"Change?" My brow rose ever so slightly.

A nod was received as the man motioned to the top bunk "You have to change into your uniform. If you don't they'll lock you in the Pit till you agree to change."

"Uniform?" It wasn't till now I realized I was still in my small suit from court. Maybe now I'd have some clothes that actually fit me. Ever since I started rented my tux's I've found it rather difficult to find ones my size let alone suits. I how do you say, 'grew out of them' over time.

Walking beside the spot where he was seated, I reached up into the top bunch standing on my tippy toes. It was then my hand came in contact with the article of clothing Philip had mentioned after padding around on the mattress blindly. Bringing it down, I studied it for a moment or two in silence. A pair of black and white stripped pants and shirt. "Oh look, they even threw in a little hat. How thoughtful." I commented to myself sarcastically. Philip overheard and laughed amongst himself.

"Black and white are definitely your colours, Max. You'd look rather dashing in an outfit such as that."

"Dashing?" I laughed "How can a person in a prison uniform look dashing? Gezz you must be crazy to try flattering a guy like me. Not that I don't enjoy it..."

Philip was suddenly hovering over me faster than Franz to a Nazi rally. Action had been so quick, I hadn't even realized the change of atmosphere until hearing the rage in the mans voice. The innocence I had seen earlier eyes had left them as he stood grasping what looked like a sharpened plastic spoon at my neck.

"What did you just call me?"

"I...I...I..." Trembling in fear I found myself speechless.

"What'd you call me!" he repeated through a snarl, the spoon's point slow digging into my skin. "Was it crazy! Did you call **me** crazy!" Oh my God, this guy was off his rocker! I'm going to die! I could hear my heart pounding through my ears as the spoon dug in deeper. Squeezing my eyes shut I prayed for a miracle. Save me!

Laughter suddenly filled the cell. I could feel the air and spit shooting out from Philip's mouth as he laughed. The spoon was slowly withdrawn over a matter of seconds. Opening an eye I found the man stumbling back to his bed and throwing himself in it, banging on the mattress madly.

Rubbing my tender neck, I couldn't help but find it rather drafty all the sudden. That's when I realized the button holding up my slacks had broke of causing them to fall and reveal my hot pink boxers. I bit into my bottom lip, _...right._ I just **had** to wear my pink pair today out of all days.

God sure does works in mysterious ways, especially when he decides to show your briefs to your crazed inmate. Ah well, thanks for saving my ass again, pal!

Fully changing into my uniform I threw my suit up in my assumed bunk while watching Philip's movements with great caution. The man truly was mad and I would have to scold myself later for not taking note of it sooner.

Leaning against the bars of my cell, I removed my hand from my neck discovering a small quantity of blood smudged against my skin. I was playing with the big boys now and they took shit from no one. If I was to survive in this place for the next five years I'd have to improve my game. It would take more skill, brains and possibly brawn for this one. Inspecting the red liquid again I slowly turned back to face the inside of my cell.

Before anything else, I needed answers.

"Hey Philip," this time I decided to pick my words more carefully with the man. As little as I wanted not to speak with him, I still had a number of questions I needed answers too and he was unfortunately my only source for answers at the moment. "you wouldn't happen to know the whereabouts of a Leopold Bloom would you?"

"Leopold? I don't believe so. If he's new I would not know till a few days. Why, is he a friend of yours Max?"

I shrugged "Kinda." I was sure unsure of the situation between us momentarily. What happened in the van had really rattled my brains. I needed time to think things over. "You mind if I ask you another question?"

"Not at all."

"What's the Pit?"

"The Pit would be one of the darkest parts of the prison." he sat up, his open palm stroking the air delicatly "Your fed once per day, crammed in a little dark room and have only one source light. There was a guy who sat in there for five weeks straight."

"A month." I commented.

"Indeed. Hope your friend isn't sitting down there."

I shook my head "Leo? Naw, he knows better then to put up a fight with the system. Ah well, thanks for your help, Philip."

"Anytime, Max."

"Think I'll catch a few Z's, would you mind if I claimed the bottom bunk?"

Philip stared at me wide eyed causing me to freeze. He wasn't going to snap again was he?

"Bottom bunks mine."

"Well," I began, "there's no ladder for me to get up to the top bunk and I certainly couldn't climb up there even if I wanted to..."

"Top bunk is Cidney's." the dark skinned man replied firmly.

"Cidney?"

Still seated, he leaned forward wearing a grin "Yeah, we've been going out for a year. She's so wonderful, Max." A dreamy sigh was given at the thought of the girl.

Looking up at the top bunk I could clearly tell no one was up there without having to stand on my tip toes. "A guy like you deserves only the best." Walking closer, I gave him a playful punch to congratulate him at the accomplishment.

Why was it always me who winds up with these loonies?

Philip's grin grew larger as he punched me back with a greater force. I gave a small cry in both surprise and pain while clutching the spot in the chest where he'd punched me. The man looked quite alarmed, afraid he had brough serious injury to me.

"I'm sorry Max, are you alright?"

"Fine." I weezed out, my palm out to assure him I was fine and not to get up.

He apologizes for punching me, but not stabbing me in the neck with a plastic spoon?

"What's that honey?" Philip was talking again, this time to whom I assumed was 'Cidney'. "I think so too. Alright Maxlin', you got bottom bunk." he said as he rose from his bunk, a wide grin across his lips "I've been looking for an excuse for me and Cidney to get a little closer." The man tapped his fingers together in a nervous fashion "And I think tonights the big night we...you know."

I gave him a forced smile.

"Oh, and Maxlin' one more thing..." he leaned in close, I could feel the hot air escaping lips in my ear as he whispered "If I ever catch you sleeping with Cidney I'll kill you myself."

"Never dream of it." the reply was tasteless.

With that, the man pulled himself up into his bunk with little difficulty allowing me to give out a sigh of relief to see him somewhat gone. At the same time I walked over to my bed, happy to finally be able to rest my head.

_Flump._

My suit landed on my head draping over my vision. Forgot I had left that up there, ah well. Pulling the article of clothing from my head I threw it at the foot of my bed before seating myself down.

Philip would certainly take some getting used too. Prison itself would. I've been in deep before, but never this deep. It was as if I was head under a pit of quicksand.

A weak groan was given.

What a night it had been. So much happened in such a short period of time, it felt as if my head was about to explode from the amount of input it had taken in and tried to process as 'sanity'.

Laying down, I stretched myself out on the mattress allowing my lids to slowly close. It would only be a matter of time before sleep set in.

_Squeaky, Squeaky, Squeaky, Squeaky, Squeeky... _

What the fuck? Being forced to open my in curiosity to what was making such an irritating sound I saw the bunk atop me bouncing a bit, the mattress's springs being put into full use as if someone were to be---.

Oh that was just wrong!

My mouth hung open in disgust at the mer thought, never mind the mental images!

Sing Sing, the only penitentiary in the city where you'd be put at spoon point by your homicidal inmate who just so happens to have an imaginary girlfriend whom he is currently having sexual intercourse with in the bunk above you. Luckily your life is saved by a pair of mens slacks two sizes to small for you when the button broke off causing them to fall and reveal your underpants before your inmate gut you like a fish.


	3. Impudence

**N.A; **Yes, I am ashamed of calling Max such names. I really suck at writing for Leo and you may **only** throw liquid objects at me in anger. Also, sorry I can't update all that often. Busy lifestyles blow chunks. I'll try to get a new chapter up as often as I can.

Thanks for your feedback!

Chapter: III - Impudence

My closed lids tightened in discomfort as I curled up further more into my blanket. Was it morning already? No, not yet. It's not morning till I get up. I gave a mental laugh at the notion before throwing the sheet of warmth over my head to prevent the sun from discovering me. If you can't see them they can't see you, right?

Nesting my head deeper into my pillow for comfort, my lips curled into a smile. Nothing was getting me out of this bed. Not now, and probably not for the next twenty minutes.

Suddenly I found that there was...something I had to do **bad**.

Running over to the toilet I began to pull down the front of my pants only to come to a sudden halt. And I thought the floor smelt bad, the fowl odor escaping from the toilet was enough to make me gag. I threw my hand over my mouth while holding in my breath. _Flush! Flush!_ Where the hell was the bloody toilet handle!

Desperately in search of the leaver I found it harder and harder not to regurgitate. If the smell didn't scare you away the toilets appearance certainly would. It was covered in an unhealthy yellow and brown rust...at least I hoped that was rust. The seat was broken and holding on by only a single hinge. Toilet paper flooded the insides of the bowl along with a quantity of other things that I have no intention of describing.

Using my foot I skillfully maneuvered to push down on the leaver and dispose of the filth only to face worse outcome. Clogged, smelly, and now backed up. This was getting ridiculous, and I _still_ had to go exceedingly bad!

Gasping for yet another breath and holding it in again I found it was now or never. I relieved myself as quickly as possible before slapping the seat down to prevent the 'what's it' from rising over the lid. In the end it proved pointless for the moment I stepped back a stupendous amount of appalling, murky, 'water' trickled out of the bowl slowly making it's way toward me. Looking away I did my best to neglect the appalling scene and evert my thoughts else where.

My eyes ineffectively stumbled upon the current habitué of my cell. It was astounding to find Philip still fast asleep after all this. I mean, isn't it true one can awaken just by a simple particular smell? I remember my mothers baking used to wake me up in the morning. And what woman bakes in the morning you ask? That I really don't know, all I do know is that her baking was spectacular.

The exhilarant sound of tumult keys caused me to rush over to the bars calling out to the owner, "Hey guard! Guard!"

Finding myself almost completely ignored I took off my shoe and began banging it against the bars to my cell to elevate the chances of catching the guards attention.

"You can wait another five minutes just like everyone else, Fatty. Breakfast is at eleven." he called out, avoiding my cell.

_That bastard... _"I'm not looking for food, I'm looking for a plumber!"

After a brief moment or two the guard alas walked over to my cell, a brow raised in interest as he scanned me over. "Oh yeah? What's the problem now, you break your toilet after sittin' on it?"

"No," I began most suttle, my fingers curling around the steel bars "it was broken before I got to it! And would it hurt you to clean that thing for once?"

Giving out a laugh the guard walked off "You should have thought about that before getting arrested."

Who in their right mind thinks about a prisons plumbing before committing a crime? "Next phone call I get I'm phoning the health inspector! Then we'll see who's laughing!"

Unaffected by the comment, the laughter slowly faded as the guard walked from sight. A sigh escaped past my lips as I leaned forward resting my head against the insipid, cold bars. Wow, I really had hit rock bottom. Here I was nothing more than scum at the bottom of other peoples shoes. Why, I remember every time I would open my mouth the world would stop and listen. That was along the same time that I'd burn money --literally-- to light a cigar. Yeah, those were the days...

I suddenly smacked myself across the face.

Shame on you, Max! Pull yourself together, damn it! You know better than to think any less of yourself. Heck, you shouldn't be talking about your glory days either, your still living them! There's no time to wallow around in self pity, you have a lot of work to do. Now put your shoe back on and get ready for breakfast.

I followed my own instruction and placed my shoe back on my foot before finding myself already prepared for my first meal of the day. The guard had spoken about a five minute wait causing me to assume that was till eleven: breakfast.

Five minutes feels like forever when your forced to sit, or in my case stand through them. Though I was welcome to sit back down on my bed at any point I refused the open offer. Standing was fine. It worked and that's all that really mattered at this point.

You know what would be handy at a moment such as this? A watch. I hadn't a clue what time it was aside from when the yard bull had last come 'round. They should really have a clock in our rooms. Rooms, ha! What am I thinking? I meant to say jail cells. By the sounds of it, I'm trying to turn this place into an office space or something.

Hmm, now that I think about it, my filing cabinet would look rather pleasant resting along side the left wall accompanied by my desk...

My fingers coiled around the irksome bars as I laughed in spite of myself. Of course, it was not at my little joke. Nor the idea of transferring my office into the prison cell. It was the mer thought of a business run through prison. There were none aside from drugs deals, if you could call that a buisness...right?

Loosening my grip, I began lightly brushing my digits down a single bar, stroking it with great delicacy. Dazed, I found myself lost in thought and vacant from my body, for an idea had sparked. An unusual, odd, but possible idea. My lips curled in satisfaction.

"Breakfast, commin' get it boys."

Broken from my train of thought by the loud click produced from my cells lock, I snapped my attention to the guard who was opening it. We caught eye contact for only a moment or two, absorbing whatever it was we could from the other before tearing our glance away. I tipped my hat off to the man as I passed.

Though I'm not quite sure why, I suddenly found myself so...happy. A bird relieved to be free from his cage. Well, free for the time being -if you could call this freedom.

Digging my hands into my pockets I walked down the long hall taking my time to enjoy the open strolling space. It was at this point I realized I had absolutely no idea where I was going aside from 'for breakfast'. Thankfully it wasn't all that difficult to find a solution, for everyone else was going to the same place to fill their empty stomachs.

The climb up the stairs was murder. It was much like standing on a tight train only your legs were forced into motion to work up each step, one by one. There was a railing available to my right for support but the smell coming off the guy in front of me who was using it repelled me from touching it. It had to be **decades** since this man had last hopped in the shower and gave himself a thorough cleaning.

We made a sharp turn to the left where we uncluttered into an open room where I found myself standing solo along with the capability of breathing. I immediately assumed this was the cafeteria from the atmosphere surrounding me.

Filing myself into line with the other prisoners I took a tray and slid it along placing whatever the canteen had to offer, which unfortunately was not much. In the proses of reaching over to take a muffin from the beneficence pan a delinquent growled at me and snatched the one I had been reaching for.

My brow rose as I made the fact I was unimpressed by his actions obvious in my expression toward the con who said nothing and left. Looking up over canteen I took note of a large banner hanging above me. 'You'll Eat It And You'll Like It!' it read in large, bold lettering. Well they certainly made their point clear. Though I could see the inmates thought differently about the sign by throwing what looked like mashed potato's up at the banner. A piece of the white mush fell from banner landed beside my foot. Uck. I chafed and move into the eating area.

My fingers curled themselves tightly around my tray as I began my search for Leo through the mob of criminals. Lucky for me he stuck out like a soar thumb making the task a lot easier than I thought it would be.

Weaving through the other convicts I eventually reached his table and slid myself in. I sat down in front of the man placing my tray down delicately so not to startle him. He looked up at me with owl eyes, frozen in the movement of bringing the straw to his juice box to his mouth.

"M-M-MAX!"

"What is it now, Leo?" I asked with a sigh. Seeing no signs of movement from him I rolled my eyes and squeezed his juice box to get him into motion again. He came back to life with a jump looking as if he had been struck by lightning as he was sprayed with juice.

_Oh boy, here we go again._

Leo began hyperventilating, the start of a monstrosity of spastic movements. If he kept this up he'd surely be seen among the other criminals as an easy target for...erm, loving. Signs of weakness was usually what caught their attention and Leo surely had the appearance. The last thing I wanted to see was little Leo be raped by another male because let's face it, a lot of ugly things happen in this prison that were not part of our sentence.

Glancing around I hissed through my teeth at the man "Calm down, your causing a scene!"

He dug his hand under the table pulling up the remains of his ever so precious blue blanket. Over the years it had been cropped down to what now looked like a baby blue handkerchief. My expression grew sour, partly disturbed while watching him intake it's smell. Talk about signs of weakness...

"Was that really necessary?" Leo asked, his blue blanket being rubbed against his chin as I offered him a napkin.

I smirked "I think so."

You know, it felt good. Good God, it felt good. Good to hear the nervousness, and that worry, the current stutter in his voice regardless how antagonized he had become by my act with his juice box... I could still feel that tingle on my hand from when we shook hands in the van. Seeing him pull out that blanket after bouncing about in his seat, feel worry for him...words cannot explain how happy I was to see his face, hear his voice and watch him along with myself experience those different behaviours in this familar situation.

There was a brief silence between us as Leo slowly placed his blanket back in his pocket.

"So, I noticed your not on my block."

Leo shook his head "Of course not, _I_ didn't try running away. And for that reason I'm in block C with a wide variety of privileges while your surely in the basement with slim to none."

"At least I've still got my dignity." was my saucy reply which sounded like a much weaker argument than I had planned out in my head. Placing my elbow on the table I rested my chin in my hand while leaning in "Alright hot shot, you won that one but I'm betting your cell mates more messed then mine."

"I don't have a cell mate." Leo replied quietly.

"WHAT!" My elbow slid from underneath the table causing me to fall forward banging my chin on the table. I pulled myself up quickly, hands slamming against the table which was enough to make Leo draw back in fear. "What do you mean you don't have a cell mate!"

"I-I mean exactly what I said." he stuttered out.

Inhaling deeply to calm myself down I apologized to him for my sudden actions "Sorry, I over reacted there. It's just I'm stuck with this guy Philip." Placing my hand at the side of my mouth I whispered, or rather just spoke in a softer tone to him "You look into his eyes, and get the feeling someone else is driving. I mean, he has a imaginative girlfriend for Pete's sake! Talk about weird!"

"One must get lonely in prison." Leo started, taking a brief sip of what was left of his juice box as I drew back "Besides, having an imaginary friend...girlfriend is nothing out of the regular. Why I had one when I was small."

"An imaginary girlfriend?"

"No, a friend."

"You also had a chemistry set and conducted several environmentally friendly experiments on your ant farm."

He raised a brow "I've never owned a chemistry set, nor an ant farm. I've been afraid of ants since the second grade when Gorge Matheson dumped all the ants from our classrooms ant farm into my gym shorts."

"Not the point!" I snapped back, unconcerned about his story. "He assaulted me with a spoon!"

"A spoon?"

"A pointy spoon. Somehow he sharpened it and cut me with it." It wasn't until now I realized just how little I knew about my scar. How large was the cut? Was it infected? Had I bled during my sleep? My fingers traced over the scar allowing me to perceive it's length. Philip had cut me worse then I though he had. The open wound stung at my touch causing me to draw back. That might explain why Leo looked so horrified when first catching of glance of not me, but my scar.

His lips pressed tightly together forming a line. "You should get that looked at."

"It's fine." Well, at least I hoped it was fine. I never have been very fond of needles and certainly did not wish to receive any shots nor stitches any time soon regardless if the wound needed to be treated or not. Shuddering at the thought I decided to change the subject. "Breakfast must be getting cold, best not let it go to waste, hmm?"

Wearing a smile I looked down at the content of my tray. My expression grew sour. Erm...what the hell is this stuff? Seriously, it was anything **but** food. Glancing over at Leo it appeared he thought the very same.

The tray contained a questionable bowl of sludge, a muffin and a juice box. I saw it most fit to start with the sludge. Grasping my spoon I poked at it gently realizing it was a thick and chunky substance. It looked a lot like raw sewage, smelt an awful lot like it too. Really wouldn't surprise me if it really was scooped out of the citys sewer system.

Prodding at it a second time, a raw egg surfaced. Well there goes my appetite.

"Is that an egg?"

Leo, who had actually brought the soup into his system looked as if his eyes were about to bulge out of his scull when catching glance of the lonesome swimmer in my bowl.

"Yes, I believe it is. And I think that's a chicken leg sticking out of yours. Gee, I didn't think they made it _that_ fresh."

Almost instantly Leo's head swung down into his bowl where he brought up the raw sewage he had digested. Slowly looking up at me still bug eyed I couldn't help but grin in satisfaction. Leo caught on immediately that the chicken leg had been nothing more then a false tale. Smart boy.

"That's not funny, Max!" he snapped through a series of coughs. He reminded me so much like a child, it was hard not to laugh at the man.

"Well I thought it was. If it makes you feel better you can have my soup."

Pushing the bowl toward him with a grin I suddenly found a force pushing it back toward me. "Max, nothing you say can convince me to eat **that**!"

I shrugged "Well don't say I didn't offer anything in sympathy you greedy man."

Punching a hole through my juice box with my straw I watched as Leo thoroughly inspected his muffin.

"Blueberry, my favorite!"

My brow raised at the comment while taking a sip of my orange juice. What were we in grade two comparing our school lunches and the little notes our mothers left for us inside? 'Don't forget to put on clean underwear. Love Mommy, xoxo!' I shook my head and reached for my own muffin.

Now Leo, he had his own little method for eating muffins. He dissected them with his fork and knife as if they were a science project, cleaning the crumbs that fell in the proses with his napkin. I'm quite positive he knew how rediculace this procedure of his looked from the look he was receiving from me but he continued on as if I was nonexistent.

After what felt like ten minutes of surgery on the muffin the man finally brought a piece he had cut from it into his mouth. He wore satisfactory expression, his eyes closed, savoring the taste. Smiling, Leo brought his fork down to take another 'scoop' of muffin. It was then his fork hit the table it was brought to his attention that his lunch was now gone.

His eyes immediately shot toward me accusingly, but I'm quite thankful to say I was not the culprit. I did not share glance with Leo though. I simply stared up at the man towering over him. Eventually he caught on.

"Hey!" Leo shot up like a rocket to face the thief. "That's mi-mi-..."

The prisoner who had stolen the muffin was a giant compared to my comrade. He glared down at Leo leaving him at a loss of words. His muscles twitched as if he was restraining himself from pounding the little man.

"You can have it, I'm full anyway!" he squeaked, quickly seating himself back down as if nothing had happened.

It wasn't that I found Leo's display pathetic, because I did. It was more the fact that he was capable of retrieving his muffin if he put in the effort. ...actually, no. No he couldn't.

"Give that poor excuse for a man his muffin back."

The two exchanged glances then turned their attention at me. I blinked several times in astonishment. _Did...did I just say that out loud!_

Apparently I had. The muffin thief now stood over me, a deep growling sound working it's way up his throat. I stood to make myself feel taller but it proved pointless in the end. What was with this prison and these 'Green Giants'? Forcing a smiling I mouthed a 'Hello' to the man.

"What if I don't want to, Pork-chops?"

It grew quite clear that it wasn't a question, it was a challenge.

"Pork-chops?" I repeated, now wearing a frown. "Did you just call me, _Pork-chops_?"

"Ohh, that offends you?"

"As a matter a fact it does." Moving closer toward him, I intended to prove to him that **I** was the threat and not him.

Mocking an apologetic look he replied "I'm sorry," his lips curled into a rather unpleasant grin of satisfaction as the last word soon followed "_Lard-ball._"

"Have you ever seen a fat man angry?"

There was silence between us as we awaited the other to make a first move. The giant took a step toward me, my legs snapped into motion forward making my belly bumping into the bully's chest causing him to jump back in a combination of both disgust and surprise.

I advanced on him talking another step. Another, and another, and another... My pace continued until he threw the first punch. Leaping to the right to avoiding his fist I was able to miss it just in the nick of time.

Everything suddenly appeared to slow down, time crawling past, yet rushing by during the same interval. I could see the other prisoners around us cheering, encouraging the fight as a source of entertainment, their mouths flopping up and down shouting a number of imaginable things. Only thing was, I could not hear them.

Pulling myself up from the position I had landed in, crouched down on my feet, I latched myself onto a near table to help pull myself up.

The giant's fist was thrown at me again. My hand slammed itself against the table I had been receiving aid from and grasped a lunch tray. I whipped it up to protect my face, my head tossed to the side as I waited for impact.

Without warning, time suddenly sped up on me. The roar of excitement from the surrounding prisoners filled my ears making it feel as if my ear drums were about to burst at any second from the sudden storm of excessive noise.

I looked at the tray I had been holding up in refuge to find a large hole in the middle smiling back at me. My jaw hung loosely as I imagined what his fist would have done to my face after witnessing it's effect on the lunch tray.

Knitting my blows together, I threw it at the man to helplessly watch him catch it and snap it in half using his hand. Yes, his hand. Not hands, hand.

'_Max, I think we're in to deep!_' the little mental Leo in my head shouted as I sprung up from the bench. Well, you know what they say; Ignorance is bliss.

Gritting my teeth I was determined to stay on my feet. This wasn't about some stupid muffin, nor about Leo. This was now my impression among the other prisoners. The current fight would rank my importance, my resources, and most importantly, my strength in this prison and I intended on them being good no matter what the cost. They didn't call me the King of Broadway for sitting around and letting the world boss me around. My fate was in my hands.

For the third time, the man's fist flew at me at a remarkable speed. I ducked down, the peach blur flying just above my head. Seeing the open opportunity to throw one back, I lept forward and uppercut the prisoner.

_...ow!_

What was this man made of, metal? Suppressing the urge to suck on my knuckles to ease the pain I used my other fist sending another punch at him.

Mistake number two, not blocking after I had stricken the man. The first mistake was picking a fight with Spring-Heeled Jack himself. For this, I received a painful blow to my right eye causing my to stumble back while clutching the bruised digit.

_OW!_

Holy mother of Joseph, that hurt!

Using the table Leo and I had been eating at for support to maintain standing, I took note of my bowl of sludge sitting in front of me and tossed at him, the sewage clothing his shirt and face. Though I could not see his face, nor hear his voice, I could tell he was growling in a accumulation of furry. The soup masking his mouth bubbled.

Regardless what I threw at him, he would be capable of overcoming the obstacle. Hell, this guy could break through a bloody wall! He was just unstoppable.

Oh boy, I was in for it now_...Mother!_

The hulk stomped forward, his steps loud and heavy feeling as if he was shaking the entire building with each step he took. I was running out of idea's and time to overthrow the man regardless how tough and quick witted I believed myself to be.

Slowly walking backward my eyes began to dart around the cafeteria for something, anything to help me out of this sticky situation. I was already scraping the bottom of the pot of luck to have made it this far and would need a lot more than Lady Luck to free me from this curse.

My opponent had easily caught up to me at this point, his thick, sausage like fingers curling themselves around my neck on the verge of lifting me from the ground. Giving a cough from the lack of oxygen going through my lungs my fingers shot themselves into the man eyes giving them a hard poke. He dropped me and threw his hands over his eyes, a cry of pain loud enough to belong to the great King Kong that echoed through the room.

Stroking my soar throat I found myself giving mental praise for the successes of my action.

"That's it, that's enough boys!"

A number of guards appearing from basically no where pulled themselves out from the audience filling the gap between the giant and I. I had forgotten all about the prison guards.

In the process of rubbing my neck I commented on their speed in arival "What took you so long!"

They ignored my comment slapping a pair of cuffs upon my wrists from behind my back. With a swift kick I found myself down on my knee's, furious with their treatment. By the looks of it, the muffin thief found it insulting as well. It took at least three guards to get the cuffs on him, the rest were assumingly to frightened to get near the man as remain perpetual in putting up a violent struggle, refusing to be 'taken'.

No longer the one who's life remain on the line, I suddenly realized just how truly entertaining it was to watch the man resist arrest and throw the guards around handcuffed. Well I'm glad it was no longer me out there, security was being tossed away like an old Christmas gift.

Turning my attention to and from the fight I felt a soft but effective poke against the back of my head. It was unsteady, cold, and clicked. I knew without a doubt it was a gun behind me ready to scatter my brains across the pavement at any minute.

My eyes screwed themselves shut, teeth grit tight enough to shatter. The sound of gunfire caused my heart to skip a beat and make my throat dry.

_dot, dot, dot..._

Popping open my eye I realized that a gun was indeed fired but was not the one currently resting against the back of my skull.

Smoke oozed out of the rifle pointed up at the ceiling, a fresh hole in it along with bits of ceiling tile resting on the hat of the guard holding the shotgun. The room became silent enough to hear breathing. Of course, I wasn't given much time to think over the proposition for as quickly as I had been brought down I was suddenly being ordered up.

"Harlson, Bialystock," On my feet I met face to face with one of the ugliest guards I had even seen. His yellow stained teeth smiling at me as he spoke. "The warden wants a word with you two..."


	4. Let's Make A Deal

**N.A; **Polly Rowen, Jacob Harlson and Warden B are © to me. I apologize for Max being such pervert and how long it took for me to finish the chapter. I didn't scare anyone off, did I? It was delayed due to a few minor editing problems that stretched out for about a week .

**Yasmine**: I could tell you this was going to be slash, but then I'd be lying. Sorry, the only 'slash' happening would be playful and not serious.

**Shire cat**: Naw, don't worry 'bout it. I had the chapter just sitting on my hard drive anyway awaiting to be uploaded. I'm glad you take interest in my story :)

**C.T. 127**: Well thank you very much. I feel flattered. Personally I couldn't believe that Leo did that to Max either. Not until I looked over the facts anyway, which still point to Leo being a selfish, backstabbing, poop-head. pout

Thanks for your feedback!

Chapter: IV - Let's Make A Deal

"All we have is frozen peas."

I nodded, took the unsought bag, and placed it delicately against my swollen eye.

"That's fine, it works all the same."

For a prison nurse, she was pretty nice. And I don't mean just in the elegance department, although she did 'raise my spirit,' if you catch my drift. From the number of men that must come in and out of her office seeking (or not) her aid each day, I was rather surprised to find her still in one piece.

The office I was currently seated in was small and was plentifully stocked with all sorts of mysterious gadgets and gizmos. Good thing Leo isn't the one sitting on this bed; I'm almost positive he's claustrophobic, not to mention horrified of women. This would turn out to be quite the predicament for him.

Shelves stacked with numerous books, jars, and other questionable items of a purpose I could only begin to imagine were hung from the walls. Well...that was until my eye stumbled upon a box of syringes. I tensed up, and my hairs rose, one by one, in discomfort. Pinching at my shirt collar, I made sure it was still effectively masking my possibly-infected cut.

"Are you alright, Mr. Bialystock?" the nurse asked, easily catching my lack of ease. Her green eyes scanned me over in curiosity as she pushed her long blonde hair from her face. My lips curled into a gentle smile.

"Of course," I said reassuringly, "It's just a little chilly in this room.

"Isn't it?" She replied, rubbing her arms to produce more body heat. "I keep telling the warden to turn up the heat in this place but he always ignores my request."

"I take it he circumvents all the other filed complaints, too, huh?"

"Unfortunately," she replied. "Though I haven't a clue how he survives the health and several other inspections that drop by every few months."

I gave a shrug, although I was almost positive how the warden was passing these tests to keep his prison up and running. It included a little help from our dear friend Mr. Lincoln who can be found printed upon an American five-dollar bill.

"Perhaps they're now hiring the blind at the adjacency." I suggested as the nurse scribbled down minor notes for herself on her clipboard.

"I'd believe it," she giggled. "Now, did that big, bad bully hurt you anywhere else?"

Saying it the way she had, I couldn't help but give a laugh. The nurse placed her hand over mine to hold up the bag of frozen peas soothing my pain. You know, could really get used to being mauled by those other prisoners just to see this woman.

"I wouldn't exactly say he got the best of me," I replied. "I mean, I gave him some pretty nasty bruises too." While boasting to her about my rather fictional version of my heroic battle, I snuck a peak at her 'head-lights', currently parked in front of my face.

_Oooh hoo hoo! Max likes, Max likes! _

"Is that so?"

"Mmm hmm." I nodded, eyes still resting on the lovely portrait before them. It was a lovely sight, indeed. I tilted my head slightly to the side for further inspection. I'd say she was about a C 34, although the low-cut top made them appear rather larger then they probably were. Oh how I missed sag-less ones! Restraining myself from literally throwing my face into her cleavage was proving almost impossible at this point

"When I saw Jacob earlier, he looked perfectly fine to me, aside from a few minor burns. Judging from the smell, I'd say it was today's breakfast."

My reply was the same as the last with a subconscious nod and 'Mmm-hmm'. My mind was set elsewhere, on far more important matters; such as if my specimens of study were made from 'natural ingredients' or not. I rubbed my chin throughout the current physiological debate going on in my head, and tried to appear most intrigued by the nurse's words...whatever they were. It wasn't until I heard my name that I awoke from my train of thought.

"Mr. Bialystock, my face is up here."

"What?" Lifting my gaze up slowly, I was unfortunate to find the nurse glaring at me; not only unimpressed, but disgusted by my behaviour, as well. I gave an innocent toothy smile before receiving a slap across the cheek. It took a moment for the pain to set in and to realize she had hit me.

''...Ow." I responded at a speed even a tortoise could out-run. Bringing my hand up to rub the sour spot, I asked, "What was that for?

The nurse rolled her eyes. "Oh please, don't play stupid with me. You men are all the same." She sighed and sat in the chair across from me. "I was hoping you'd be different, considering your age. Oh well..."

Considering my age? What was that supposed to mean! Still rubbing my cheek, I asked, "What about my age?"

"Never mind, let's just finish up," she replied looking back at her clipboard of medical notes. "I have other patients waiting." The playful mood we had underwent moments ago was now replaced by one of those 'get the hell outta here' ones. A lot like when you're stuck talking with someone you dislike. "Because you've only been in prison for one night, we unfortunately have not received your health records in the mail yet. They should be here within the next week, so for the time being, I'll be writing up a new record for you and will simply be attaching it to your old ones."

Rolling to her desk on her chair she quickly snatched a paper off it and rolled back in front of me. "Alright," the woman began as she clicked her pen "I'm just going to ask you a few questions and I expect you to respond to them honestly."

"No problem," I replied. "Honest is my middle name." The nurse raised a brow at my playful wink and smile before frowning.

"Mr.Bialystock, I am almost one hundred percent positive your middle name is not 'Honest' nor near any form of 'Honest'. Now can we please just get this over with?"

Giving a sigh in defeat I waved my hand at her carelessly. "Alright, alright. Fire away."

"May I have your full name and number?"

I blinked in surprise before grinning, "Why I didn't know you felt that way. I mean, just a moment ago it sounded like-"

Like she was asking me out.

"Your prison number in which you go by, Mr.Bialystock."

"Oh. Ehh...I'm not familiar with this number. Was I supposed to pick one up at the souvenir stand on my way in?"

Rubbing her temples, the nurse shook her head. "I'll get it later from the warden. I'm sure he has it handy, he's been worked up about you coming here for the past week ever since receiving notice of your trial."

"Worked up?" I asked, curious as to why the warden could possibly take so much interest of my well being in their prison. "How so? –Max Samuel Bialystock. B. I. A. L. Y. S. T. O. C. K."

Scribbling the name down on the health form, she looked up at me thoughtfully "Let's just say he's not exactly your biggest fan.

Giving a chuckle, I stopped rubbing my sour cheek and brought the bag of frozen peas back up to sooth the pain of my aching eye. "It wouldn't be the first time someone disliked my work. Critics these days..." I said, shaking my head in an imperceptible swaying motion.

"They can be a bit rough these days," she replied in a softer tone, "though I have not seen one of your plays since I was a child, so who knows. –Year of birth?"

"That would be...1943." I said through my teeth after a brief moment of thought.

The nurse did not look the slightest bit pleased with my answer causing her pen's movement to come to a halt. "I may not be the brightest crayon in the box Mr. Bialystock, but do you seriously expect to pass by me as twenty six?"

"I was merely testing you. It's June 28th, 1935."

Tapping her pen against her clipboard in annoyance, she crooked an eyebrow at me as if to ask 'Are you sure about that?'

"1930?" I asked hopefully.

She glanced at her wristwatch in a bored manner before looking at me with the same tired and annoyed expression. Hmpf. There's no way to get around this woman, is there? Just how does she know how old I am anyways? What makes her so confident that I was lying about my age?

"I've been doing this for quite some time Mr.Bialystock, and am rather familiar with those who try to hide their age." the health personnel said in a matter-of-fact tone. Well, that answered my question quite well. "Now, you can either tell me your real year-of-birth, or I will simply guess; and I can assure you that it won't be anywhere near twenty six."

Damn.

"June 28th, 1920."

"Oh."

Blinking, I looked at her rather puzzled while she tried to suppress what looked like a laugh. "I...didn't think you were **that** old."

I frowned in disapproval, giving a severely dry and annoyed, "Thank you."

"I didn't mean it that way. I meant you look rather young for your age."

My eyes lit up at the comment. "Oh!" a smile appeared upon her lips as well as my own that soon led to laughter. It wasn't forced, though. It was a natural laugh that deteriorated the tension that had been between us mere seconds ago. The nurse's laugh had a small snort to it, causing us to both laugh a little harder.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as she tried to calm herself down. "I laugh like a duck –Oh my goodness, Mr. Bialystock, you're leaking!"

Staring at her, I leaned in a smidge closer to insure that my ears had not been playing a trick on me "Beg your pardon?"

"Peas, you're leaking peas!"

"What!" I exclaimed in horror. Now I'm almost certain I couldn't have been laughing that hard. I still had perfect control over my bladder...didn't I?

My gaze slowly began to lower before the nurse shook her head and pointed at my face "The frozen peas! In the bag!"

Taking the package from my eye, I realized that it was indeed leaking. Somehow, a small hole had opened up at the corner of the bag. I inspected it closer by holding it up to the light, only to have practically the entire contents of the bag pour out onto me.

"Well then," I began, after a wave of silence from myself, bringing the bag down into my lap during a short recovery from the wave if peas that had attacked me "This will give the janitors something to do for awhile."

Once she had cured herself from the laughing spell cast upon her, the nurse replied in an amused—yet irritated—tone, "I wouldn't count on it. They only come once a month. I'll clean it up myself later."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'll help you." Looking at me completely dumbstruck, she was just as surprised with my offer as I was. "...Because that's what a proper gentlemen would do," I continued.

"And this is coming from a convict." the woman said as she glanced away for a brief moment and pushed her hair from her face. A grin had spread upon her lips, and my cheeks turned an ashen white when she cast her gaze back upon me. I don't think I've ever sat across from a girl younger than me for such a long period since High School. I folded my legs to hide my 'excitement' for the second time in the last twenty minutes.

Clearing my throat, I said with great antiquity "A Broadway Producer is always a gentlemen, Miss...?"

"Rowen." she replied while giving a click from her pen. "I take it Broadway Producers always stall on their health reports as well, hmm?" Placing the name into my memory bank with great care, I shook my head in denial of the nurse's discovery.

"Poppycock!" I rang out. "That's not my style."

I was waiting for her to ask what 'my style' was, but instead she caught me by surprise, bringing our—or rather my—conversation straight to the point.

"Mr. Bialystock," she asked, "are you trying to seduce me?"

I thought over my response for a moment before I asked, as coolly as I could manage, "Is it working?" I was honestly screaming on the inside from the fact I had, in fact, been figured out.

"Polly! What the hell are you two doing in there, having a party! It's been at least ten minutes!"

Unaware that someone had entered the room, I sprung at least two feet off the bed and onto my feet. The nurse was a fair share startled, herself, but showed no signs of alarm when she saw that there was no one but the two of us in the little office. I slowly seated myself back down onto the bed as the woman rolled off to her desk and her chair. The peas on the floor slowed her down a fair bit, so she simply got up and walked to the wooden structure, instead.

Trying not to focus on her ass, I watched Miss. Rowen as she leaned in close to a speaker box planted on her desk that I had not caught sight of earlier, and pushed down on a small button practically hidden behind a stack of papers.

"I'm writing a health record for him, since I haven't received his official ones yet." She spoke calmly, her finger lifting off the button once she was finished speaking.

"Yeah, well how long does it take to fill out a bloody form?" snapped the unfamiliar heated voice.

Sorting through a fair amount of the content of her desk she replied without the slightest hint of distress "At least thirty minutes." I grinned.

"I don't have that kind of time on my hands. You can finish with him later."

"Yes sir." She lifted her finger off the intercom button, then turned to face me again.

"We'll arrange a better time for us to finish your record if we don't receive it within' the next week." she said, now spotting my grin and giving an uncertain smile. "What?"

"Nothing," I replied, masking with the best of my ability my amusement from the short conversation shared between the nurse, the warden, and the way her breasts just...giggled. –What? I can think about breasts all I want, thank you very much. It's my right as a man and a privilege I use as frequently as possible. Especially when I've been stuck having to eye your granny's for most of my life. Case closed.

"What colour of lollipop would you like, Mr. Bialystock?" Ms. Rowen asked, a rather large tub filled with a variety of colours suddenly nestled in her arms. My expression became sour and I felt as if she had underestimated me from Great Broadway Producer to whiny child.

"I'm a grown man!" I snapped, stressing the 'man' at the end as greatly as possible. But oddly enough, it did not appear to affect the nurse. Instead, she simply moved the tub of candy a little closer. I eyed it hungrily, drawn by its content, regardless how hard I tried to retrain myself from its spell. Suddenly I felt as if I were five years old again. In defeat I sheepishly requested, "...Green please."

Bearing a proud smile for her accomplishment, she pulled the elected colour from the container and delicately placed it in my hand. Immediately after it came within contact I frantically ripped off its wrapper and jammed it into my mouth. My teeth crunched into a corner of the candy and broke off a small portion, which I began to suck on. I never, _ever_ was capable of just sucking on my suckers; I would always crunch it into pieces, eager to taste the flavour of my choice.

Green was usually my favoured, soon followed by red, purple, orange and lastly yellow. I was never a fan of yellow lollipops. Nor was I a big orange fan. The two flavours sometimes tasted slightly the same depending on the brand so whenever I received one of the two colours I'd usually give them away...when I'm out of this place I'm buying myself a bag of lollipops.

"Miss Rowen, Bialystock's attendants are here." came a bored voice from behind the office door. I hadn't expected that my escorts would be arriving so soon. Not that I had intended on bursting out of the room to make a break for it before my escorts came or anything, just the fact that I didn't feel so impersonated when with the health attendant. I'd have been caught, or possibly shot by the guard posted outside the door that I had spotted when being dragged into the office earlier. He was probably there to ensure the nurse's safety.

"Alright Earl, he'll be out in a second." Polly replied, gesturing for me to get up.

I carefully manoeuvred around the spilled peas (a majority of them already thawed) across the floor and asked, "When is my next appointment?"

"Well," she began picking up the clipboard from her desk and flipping through it, "your physical should be in two weeks but we can cover that later this week if you come in to complete your temporary health form."

Checking my shoes to insure I hadn't stepped on any peas, I looked up at the woman in terror. "Physical!"

How long it had been since I had taken my last physical? I hadn't a clue. All I did know was that I did not want this young, beautiful, and rather successful woman to see my fat and aging body, because in the end, even _I_ had to agree that I had risen a little above the ideal weight for my high.

And here I thought dropping my soap in the shower would be the worst that could happen.

---

"Why if it isn't the famous Bialystock," spoke the voice which I had heard from the intercom. "I've heard so much about you, how unpleasant to finally meet you." His lips slowly curled into a grin while he took a long drag of the cigarette nestled between his fingers. "Sit down."

As told, I rested myself down in the poorly manufactured wooden chair placed in front of the warden's desk. The chair was uneven with the floor and wobbled, and I had to fiddle with it for a brief moment before looking at the man across from me. Just as I did, he plopped himself down in his own chair (much more formal then mine, for obvious reasons). His desk was vast, with a wide variety of utensils upon it. It reminded me of my own desk back in my office. Unlike mine though, his had a name tag...bar...whatever you call them, placed at the front for viewing pleasure. It read in bold lettering 'Warren Bergström'. Bergström being his last name...I think.

"You think you're smart, don't you?"

My brow rose and I looked up from the plaque upon his desk. I wasn't exactly sure how to answer him and out of complete stupidity replied in question: "Yes?

"Well you're not!" he snapped, cutting me off sharply. "You may be famous out there, but in here you're just as worthless as these other men."

"I never thought of myself any higher." I replied calmly. It wasn't my intention to sound like a smart ass...at first. But after I had spoken I realized I had an advantage over the man. A small but notable one. I clamped my fingers together and rested them in my lap while giving Bergström a smug grin to match my response.

The warden growled. "And you shouldn't! Now that you're under _my_ roof you live by _my_ rules!"

"Good, I'm glad we could agree upon these terms. I can see we're making progress already. Excellent!" My feet propped themselves up upon the wardens desk as I leaned casually back in my chair.

Please don't ask what it was that made me so confident that the man sitting across from me wouldn't throw me in the much-dreaded 'pit' that Phillip had mentioned earlier, because, to be honest, I was frightened he would. I was stepping into his minefield, oblivious as to where I'd be stepping and to all consequences.

Bergström looked dumbstruck by my actions. Or perhaps it was disbelief. Both? I don't know, but he definitely was not satisfied with my response. The cigarette in his hand shook like the burning rage inside of him, which caused me to grow tense. Quickly he brought more nicotine into his system to calm his nerves.

I surveyed the man in silence and conducted a miniature study upon him. What was it that made him so uncomfortable about my whereabouts in his prison? Sure, it was an advantage for me to have him shaken, but it was also a disadvantage. There was no telling what he'd do to me.

Funny; now that I think about it, we hadn't spoken a word about the fight, nor about Harlson, the iron giant whom I had had the pleasure of fighting in the prison cafeteria. He was with us though. I had spotted him sitting in the corner of the room behind me like a child when being sent to sit in the corner of the classroom wearing the Dunce hat.

-Harlson wasn't wearing a Dunce hat by the way. Just so you know.

Remaining in my comfortable position I resisted the urge to rub my chin in thought.

"Don't get cocky with me, you bastard," Bergström growled. My brows rose at the unnecessary language being used. That was rather unexpected...well, not really. But it still had an impact on me. "I have legal ownership of you and can do whatever I damn well please with the likes of you," he continued, shaking a handful of papers into my face and blocking my field of vision for a moment before reeling them away when my hand went to grab one. I didn't receive a chance to read what had been printed on the parchment—surely by the warden's intention—and could only guess that they were my legal ownership papers. It sounds legal for him to own me, especially after my new appearance as a criminal.

"I hated Funny Boy." the man spat.

I said nothing.

"I hated all your productions. Horrible garbage that only a rat like you could produce!" He Leaned over his desk and continued to glare over at me, sucking my life's accomplishments away with ease. "And then you made that new one, that play honouring Hitler. You're disgusting. Disgusting!" His fist slammed against the desk and caused a majority of the papers upon it to give a small hop. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me!"

The warden threw today's newspaper at me fiercely, which hit me squarely in the face. I hesitantly peeled it off, guessing the press had printed another grotesque article about me, and gave it a shake to straighten it out, while focusing on the headlines. Nothing appeared all too appealing until I spotted my name near the bottom of the front page in bold, black ink.

"**Bialystock's Best Move Yet: Prison!**

Yesterday Judge Johnson gave out his best sentence proclaimed in 30 years of work after enduring the case that jury members are calling 'the biggest flop in history'. Famous Broadway producer Max Bialystock, along with comrade Leopold Bloom were both sentenced five years in the states penitentiary (Sing-Sing) setting play-goers at ease to return to Broadway without another horrid musical crammed down their throats.

In other news on Broadway, the new Neo-Nazi musical 'Spring Time For Hitler' is a strapping success! Exclusive Interview with director and stage performer, Roger Debris, on page seven."

Beside the article featuring info about my case, I noticed they had placed my prison mug shot taken from the time I was in lock up and waiting for my trial. Taking a closer glance, I found a subtitle below: 'Bialystock: Livin' Large.'

Oh sure; they give Roger all the credit and glory for my award-winning production. I hate the media...the mug shot, though; it didn't look all that bad. In fact, it was probably one of the better pictures of me. I tilted my head to the side to view it at a different angle. Yep, definitely one of my better ones.

But now what was I to say to Bergström? Without thinking things out all that clearly, I responded in possibly the worst form available. "Ah yes," I began, a broad grin upon my face as I folded the paper back up. "Spring Time for Hitler _did_ have a good run, didn't it? I mean the reviews; they were fantastic! Last I heard it was up for the Pulitzer Prize..."

Biting down on his cigarette in anger, the warden broke his cancer-stick in two. One part fell to the floor while the other fell into his mouth. I tried to maintain a straight face while he did the same.

I looked down at the paper to comment once again, "I love the picture by the way. It really captures my wild side. Do you think I could get a copy of—"

Bergström snarled and spat out the piece of cigarette that had been looming inside his mouth. This time both hands slammed down on the desk as he pointed an accusing finger at me. "You fat twit! Don't you get it! The press is watching me like a hawk, now that you're here!"

My lips became dry as I brought my feet down from his desk and loosely crossed my legs and threw one arm around the back of the chair. I had a feeling this prison was corrupt the moment I stepped into it, and now I have more reason to believe that my hunch was correct by the man's behaviour towards the current situation.

"Big B," I said, "I'm willing to make an offer."

"Warden Bergström," he corrected icily.

"...Yeah, I have a proposal."

"Not interested."

"If you are capable of fulfilling my expectations, I shall fulfill yours. A little contract agreement between men."

Bergström looked as if he'd consider the deal, then rose from his seat and began pacing around his desk in what appeared to be the deepest of thoughts. Whatever was going on in this prison had to be something big. Maybe he was debating whether or not he'd tell me what was going on. If he didn't I'd figure it out myself; how hard could it possibly be?

"I see this requires some serious thought from you," I said in amusement. "I'll give you sixty seconds. ...Go!"

"What!" he snapped, unaware that I was truly timing him by the clock over his desk.

Okay, so I've used the same trick twice in two weeks, already. But if you knew how many times I've actually used this method during the period of my Producer-Hood and seen it **work,** you'd be using it all the time, too. People work much more accordingly under stress. It's the easiest way to get your way.

"Forty-Six seconds..."

The grin spreading upon my face was difficult to mask as I continued to watch Bergström struggle through a fog of complete panic. There was no denying that I was enjoying this. Yet at the same time I was just waiting for him to whip out a firearm and blow my brains out. I began to chew on my lip at the thought.

"Ten seconds left..."

"That wasn't even close to sixty seconds!"

"Well I'm sorry," I said mockingly. "I don't have the proper instruments on hand to keep track of time accurately, so you're going to have to make due with—Time's up! Have we reached a decision Mr. Bergst...ehh...," Squinting, I quickly scanned his desk again for the small plaque with his name, finding that I was unaware what sound the dots on top of the 'o' would make it sound like. "...Warden?"

Expressionless, he seated himself in his chair and opened his desk to pull out a piece of paper. "What do you want?"

Triumphantly, I cried out "Alright!" And without realizing it, I had began to clap in a fashionable—but easily seen as childish—manner. As quickly as I had begun, stopped and cleared my throat to rid myself of the simple-minded roll I had just given myself in the warden's books.

"I want a new cell-mate."

"You'll have to wait a week till we find a suitable applicant." Bergström replied.

"I'm rather certain Bloom is an acceptable replacement. He's available and qualified. Just the man for the job."

"No."

"Great!" At first, I did not catch what the man had said. The reply had been simply brushed aside and took a moment for it to sink in. When it had, I found myself doing a double take on the situation and piecing the short 'montage' together to formulate an ...understanding of the situation. "Wait, what?"

"No." he repeated firmly.

A frown formed upon my face in disapproval to his words "What do you mean 'no'? You're not supposed to say 'no'!"

If anything, I had expected him to give a smug grin with his explanation. But he didn't. Instead, his expression remained rock-hard, almost staring right through me. If his narrowed eyes had not been resting their gaze on mine I would have agreed that he had been disregarding my existence at this point.

"No, Bloom will remain where he is, separate from you, till further notice."

"And why's that?" I asked through a haze of irritation, demanding an answer aside from 'no' from the man. This word, 'no', it was not a part of my vocabulary. Well, not when it was holding me back from something particular that I had my eye set on, anyway. My voice changed to concern as I reviewed the situation to find a new concept at hand. "He hasn't broken any rules has he?"

"No, he has not." the warden confirmed with ease.

Well, there was a relief. I could never see Leo as the sort to cause much trouble, anyway. He was far too apprehensive and timid. Completely innocent of crime, and only a sucker to it.

Except for when it came to that whole Rio thing...that bastard.

I clenched my fists and inhaled sharply, then did my best to forestall the wave of anger taking me over. This was not the time to be focusing on 'that'; there were larger matters at hand. This was only becoming an un-needed distraction.

Think Max, think! What else could Bloom have done wrong to plunge into the atrocious portion of Bergström's books?

"Has he done anything offensive?"

"No."

"Refused to follow any instruction?"

"No."

I took a quick glimpse over the warden and asked "Did he make fun of your hair?"

"What about my hair?" he demanded, his brow ever so slightly rising in either curiosity or a result of his bottled up anger on the verge of escaping.

"Nothing, it looks lovely." I quickly replied. Hopefully, the man wouldn't think much of it. It would be entertaining to see how long he could go through the rest of the day with that cowlick.

Pressing on, I continued with my questioning. "Has he been—"

"—Leo is not the problem." Bergström suddenly cut me off. His frustration became obvious at this point. "And I'm rather positive he won't be. I only have one concern at the moment."

"And what is that, Warden?"

"You being miserable and rotting away in my prison."

"Oh."

Well there's a task you don't find on your agenda too often. But so is 'make love to every little old lady in New York'. Ha, ha...ha...ahhh, that wasn't funny, Max. Now is no time for cheap, weak, and completely unnecessary authorized humour.

A heavy silence hung over us before I spoke again. I had to make certain to have a plan on hand before I took any action. This chance may not appear again, I had to take advantage of it now, before it was gone. I hate having to think on my feet.

"Okay then. I want a plumber to come and fix the toilet in my cell."

"Fine."

He scribbled onto the piece of parchment in front of him furiously. The pen looked as if it were about to break from the amount of pressure it had to withstand.

"And I want all the privileges that a block-C prisoner has."

The warden's lip twitched. "We can't leave your cell door open and allow in-and-out access so easily. Not with your cell mate's condition."

"Then I want to be moved up to C block without a cell mate."

"I can't allow that either. There are no available cells left."

My eyes narrowed "You don't know that, you haven't checked."

His lips curled in satisfaction "You're right, I don't know."

"Well then go check. Right now; I can wait. Or get the guard over there to check." I waved the guard standing by the long forgotten Harlson in the corner of the room. "Hey you! Go check if there are any available cells on C block! Go on, what are you waiting for?"

The guard looked confused at first, but began to leave the room to fulfill the task I had given to him. Bergström rose from his seat and barked at the man to not only stay put but also never again take orders from prisoners like me. I couldn't help but grin as he scolded the guard.

"...and you!" my attention snapped to the warden, who sent me a deadly glare. "You'll be spending a week in the pit if you ever utter so much as one order to one of my men again!"

I forced a smile that turned out to look out right ridiculous, due to the sudden awareness of the mine field I had just entered. "My lips are sealed."

"You better damn hope so, because you'll be the one paying, not me." He slowly sank back into is seat and pushed his writing utensil toward me. "Now sign beside the 'x' and get out of here."

He didn't have to tell me twice. I took the pen and took the paper in front of Bergström to skim through it and as he had ordered and with great pride for my accomplishment, signed it. But I was rather curious when reading, taking in every last detail up to the colour of pen that the agreement had been written in; blue.

'Prisoner **145195**, **M**ax **B**ialystock remains under oath of keeping low from public and sitting out of activities that may cause further exposure to the press to **L**. **B**ergström, **W**arden of **S**ing-**S**ing **P**enitentiary. In return he is promised one plumber to perform maintenance to his cell's pipes, and a limited quantity of **C**-block privileges.

**L**. **B**ergström'

What do you know? He had put in the C privileges. Limited, but still there. I scanned a piece of the parchment a second time to familiarize myself with my prisoner number, 145195 (kind of a bit of a ring to it, don't you think?), and finally signed the contract where I had been told. But as doing so I also added an entitlement of being moved to the same block as Leopold Bloom.

Before handing it back to the warden, I folded it neatly into three so he would not catch what I had added till I had left the room. It was safer that way...really.

"Get him out of my sights."

At least two guards came to my sides and literally lifted me out of my seat and dragged me out of the office. I could see Harlson being escorted out, as well, by three guards, one holding a gun out at the convict, shaking due to his nerves but at ready in case the giant tried anything drastic. You know, for _their_ safety.

As I passed, he glanced at me with great appeal. And yet not a word escaped him. I hadn't a chance to say anything to him, and even if I did I wouldn't. So as I was carelessly dragged away, I could only look back at him bug eyed in a state of fear. After all, he was the size of the Hulk and would have killed me in the cafeteria if I hadn't been rescued by the guards. If you could even call that a rescue.

Through wide, shining eyes, I suddenly found myself replaying what felt like the most fictional events that had just been put into play. There was definitely something else going on here. Something to do with the press and attention focused on Bergström's prison. But what? I hadn't the slightest clue but I intended to find out, if it's the last thing I do. And to be honest—and to consider all the consequences—it just might be.


End file.
